With Pride Comes Pain
by ShinyAbsol
Summary: Vegeta struggles internally with his demons while training and awaiting the arrival of the Android threat. Oneshot.


**A/N: My take on Vegeta's inner monologue while training in preparation for the Androids. Churned this out when I couldn't sleep last night. There's a couple of puns thrown in, see if you can spot 'em.  
It's always stuck with me that Vegeta's transformation to Super Saiyan was due to an outburst of pure rage, yet by the time Majin Buu is in the picture he seems to have settled into a somewhat "normal" life with Bulma and her family. And when he tells Trunks goodbye before sacrificing himself, well ;-;**

* * *

_Shit_, he thought, hands clenching and unclenching in an attempt to relieve some tension. _I almost overdid it that time._

A bead of sweat rolled down the Saiyan Prince's chin, fell through the heavy gravity of the training chamber, died on the floor with a silent splat.

_I can't do myself in before I get my chance to defeat Kakarot_, he smiled to himself slyly, almost chuckling at the thought. _But of course, he won't know what's coming. I can hardly call that fair, can I? Best to let him know what he's up against. And to do that, I need to be in peak physical condition._

Delivering another swift punch to the air, Vegeta resumed his training. Rage was the most prominent emotion amid his swirl of thoughts, as he relived defeats and moments of humiliation in order to fuel his desire for power. Letting his emotions flare, he'd found, was the key to unlocking the whatever strengths he hadn't yet reached. It was raw. His innermost thoughts, his feelings, his pain. He let every defeat drive him forward, every razor-sharp kick to the hollow centre of the chamber made to mirror the moves of one of his former foes.

_To hell with it_, he screamed internally. _Why bother with the word 'foe'? Every disgusting creature that breathes air on this planet is a potential enemy waiting to destroy me!_

He gathered his ki in the palm of a hand, watching it slowly build as he seethed, before releasing it to spiral around the chamber. This was to be a test of agility; to see if he could outrun himself, in a sense. Or, if he wasn't fast enough to dodge, to see how he would fare against a raging blast of his own energy.

"Oh, Vegeta!" cooed a muffled voice from outside the makeshift training chamber.

The hatch of the chamber, a remodelled spaceship thanks to the handiwork of Dr. Briefs, opened with a sudden shift of air pressure. Vegeta spun to face his intruder, momentarily forgetting his game of cat and mouse.

"Woman, what do you think you're –"

_Boom!_

"Argg!"

Vegeta crashed into one side of the tiled room, the pre-programmed extra gravity ensuring that getting back on his feet would be a task. Lurching forward to catch his breath, he noticed a sliver of red in his peripheral vision.

"Ha," he spat, his breathing laboured. "Shit."

"Oh my gosh! How heavy do you have the gravity on this thing?" cried the heavily pregnant woman from the entrance. "I know dad made it super strong for you, but – 300x Earth's gravity! Vegeta, are you a madman?"

"Shut up, woman," the Saiyan growled.

Bulma, the source of his distraction and subsequent injury, pulled a small remote from her pocket and pressed a button. Immediately the dim lighting inside the modified spacecraft brightened and the heavy pull of the room dissipated. She rushed over to Vegeta, kneeling tentatively at his side.

"You've been overdoing it again, haven't you?"

A huff and turn of the head was all he gave her. She brushed off his ignorance, pulling a handkerchief from the inside of her Capsule Corp. vest.

"I just came to see," Bulma dabbed at the crimson dribble on Vegeta's face, "Ugh, hold still, would you? There, got it."

She crumpled the fabric and slipped it back into its hiding place. "I came to see if you'd like some lemonade. There's a freshly made batch in the kitchen."

Vegeta turned to face her, a million gears turning in his head. He _could_ use a break, but accepting more of her assistance would push him further into a pit of dependency. _Then again,_ he noted, looking at her protruding belly,_ she is carrying my child. Perhaps it wouldn't be so unexpected to show a shred of kindness now and then._

And as he rose to stand, offering her a hand up as well, Vegeta realised something. While he was furious, jealous in so many ways that Kakarot had achieved his ultimate goal before he had, Vegeta's qualms were not with Bulma, nor were they with the rest of the world. They were with the man who had surpassed him, and more importantly, they were with himself. Vegeta would continue striving to best himself, but first he had some lemonade to chug down, a shower calling his name, and a baby son who would greet the world in due time.

He smirked a little. _His son_. Soon, he'd have a legacy of his own. A warrior to spar with, a comrade to test himself against, a protégé to pass down his skills. Kakarot already had a son of his own. Vegeta looked at the belly of the woman before him, his chest swelling with pride. _My son and I will be better than Kakarot and his_.

Yes, he had one more goal set in his mind; one more reason to push his limits even further, and another reason to stick around on planet Earth. Soon he'd have a compatriot, an ally of his own flesh and blood, perhaps even a patch to place over his wounded pride once he saw his own strengths placed in a small bundle before him. Vegeta smiled – actually cracked the thin purse of his lips for something full and genuine – gave the woman in front of him a quick peck on the cheek, and sauntered out of the chamber.

"Wow," Bulma exhaled in disbelief. A hand was rubbing the spot he'd kissed, trying to dull the tingling sensation long enough for her to decide whether or not it was real. "He's certainly in a good mood today."


End file.
